Playing with Wolves
by Girlaremo
Summary: Not many people think about the magical world living around them. Werewolves are far from one's normal life...or is it? When stoic man Lars becomes incorporated into Emma's life, how long will it take for Emma to wonder the mystery behind this man? Will she be too far in before she realizes she may be in danger? [Werewolf AU NedBel] (Read Author's Note!) [Rated T]
1. Prologue: A Letter

_Prologue: A letter to the reader_

_To whom it may concern, or anyone that has started reading this memoir, I would like you to imagine something for me for a minute. _

_Imagine the one person or thing that you love most. Your lover, your mother, your father—the one person you know you could not live without. They're so special to you, aren't they? You would risk the world to bring them back, right? _

_This is how I feel about my most important person. My most special person is my boyfriend, Lars. From the moment I lay in bed after a night of drunk cuddling and lack of sex the night before, I knew that he was something wonderful. From his unbreakable stance to the fine wisps of his hair that escape the confines of the hair gel he uses, he is the most beautiful thing that I believe I have seen. _

_Now, imagine your special person again. You still love, them, right?_

_Imagine someone taking them away. Imagine your special person has devised a spider web of lies tied all the way back to themselves so they know that if anything happens, they can just crash through the middle and tear everything down, allowing you to be safe. Imagine that you can't see them again. They give you pictures and a zip drive full of videos for you to remember them by, and maybe a few hints to where things of theirs might be hidden. It's painful to have these things, and not your special person, correct? Your special person gives you a number that's out of the country, somewhere cold. What do you do? Call the long distance number or just wallow in your self-pity and move on after a few months? _

_What would you do for love? How far would you go in the name of love? _

_Would you break apart the world itself with your bare hands for love?_

_Would you risk your own life for the sake of being with your loved one?_

_All these things are questions I have been asked for a long time._

_I will find out how far my love carries me, and how far it will go._

_19 March 20XX _

_-Emma Peeters _

…

… …

…

The night before had been a blur. Just flashes of images that Emma couldn't quite remember. As she lay in bed that following morning, she recollected what had went on. She had finally convinced herself that she was ready to go out to the bar to drink. She'd call a friend and go to a club, but it never worked past that moment in time. All her friends were out on winter break still, and they probably wouldn't return her calls anyways, because they were too busy to really care about Emma anyways. She remembered that two drinks in she had been approached by a handsome man with a familiar accent. Dutch, she decided. He bought her two more of what she had been drinking, and a couple shots of gin.

She watched him closely, trying to make sure that he didn't slip her anything in her drink, but things spiraled after the fifth mixed drink that they shared, both of them were giggling and hanging on each other. He called her cute and took a sip of her vodka and grenadine, yet she just laughed in his face and took the compliment, along with his arm around her waist. Both of them were trashed enough to hobble back to Emma's apartment to have the handsome man strip to his underwear and wander to her bedroom and flop on the bed, only to have Emma follow after. She remembered the bed was warm with him in it, and he had such a nice face when he slept.

As thoughts started to bubble up to more recent events, she slowly opened her eyes, expecting to see an empty bed. When the man from last night was still there, she was surprised to see his half-awake stare meet hers. "Good morning...I thought you would have left by now. Most guys do, anyways."

"I wouldn't leave without saying thank you for such a nice bed. This is more comfortable than the one at my apartment...This isn't a memory foam bed, is it?"

Emma honestly didn't know what kind of mattress it was. She picked it up at a yard sale. It was new when she bought it, so she just bought the bed frame and the mattress for one hundred and forty five Euros. Sheets and Christmas lights came with holiday clearance, so all in all, it was just a cheap but good bed. "I don't think it is. It's good for me, though." The woman replied, shrugging her shoulders. "But you're welcome for the night's rest."

He opened his eyes a bit more, hazel meeting the curious emerald orbs of the Belgian woman. "Hn...I think it's even better seeing who I slept with." He seemed relaxed still, looking at her with an expression of interest. "I didn't catch your name last night..."

"Emma." She offered a smile, pulling the t-shirt she slept in down a bit. "I bet I could guess your name..." With a bit of an exaggerated thoughtful expression, she crinkled her nose, pursing her lips. "You look like...a Lyon type of guy...but I hardly think that's the right name, right?"

"You were just a few letters off. Try Lars." The other propped himself up in the bed, running a few fingers through his flat hair. Looking in the dresser mirror on the other end of the room, he flopped back down with a defeated sigh. "Not sure I like your name for me. If I'm Lyon, you look more like a Bella."

"Ew..." Emma snorted, crinkling her nose again. "I'm Belgian, not Italian...you could have come up with a better fitting name. I'm not a 'Bella donna', Sir Lars."

Mimicking her snort, he rolled over onto his side again, tilting his head with a slight smile tugging at his lips. "You know, if you give me a title, you might as well use the full name. It sounds better as 'Sir Lars Van Dijk'."

"Ooh, you sound like such an aristocrat." The woman chuckled, not moving from her side position. "You make me sound like a Plain Jane, Sir Lars Van Dijk. Would the sir like some breakfast with Miss Emma Peeters?"

"I think he would. Right after he gets his clothes off the floor. It's unmodest to blatantly show one's underwear around a woman." Well, he had a point. With a bit of a grunt, she rolled out of bed and looked around, grabbing up at least a pair of pants and a shirt for Lars, tossing them to him.

"There we go...one pair of pants and a shirt for you. I'll just go get some coffee going—You like coffee, right?"

"I actually wouldn't mind a cup. I'll be out to help make some breakfast if it doesn't bother you." He offered, turning to the side of the bed to slide on his pants, heading out after her as he buttoned up his shirt. "You do have breakfast things, right?"

"Yeah...of course I do. All sorts of breakfast things. Like pizza from last night and eggs." The pathetically cute expression paired with the small voice she used was just short of adorable. Lars didn't seem to mind as he refrained from rolling his eyes at her.

"Okay then...do you have any pancake mix?" The phrase struck a chord with Emma, and there returned the crinkled nose. "What's with that face?"

"You think I'd insult myself with having _pancake mix_?" The words slid off her tongue like oil. "Hon, I'll make you some waffles. I'll have the waffle iron warmed up before you could ask me what my original hair color is."

"...Well, what is it?"

"Blonde." She replied with a bit of a smirk, flashing a few pearly teeth. It was a good start. The eggs are in the fridge, mixer is in the cupboard above the sink...we just need the egg yolks."

Within a few minutes, the two of them were having waffles for breakfast, cooking the waffles in an old waffle iron on the stove. Coffee and the sweet smell of waffles wafted through the apartment, giving Lars a bit of time to look over the place. Seemed like a normal bachelorette pad to him, give or take the scenic view. There were a couple messes in the sink, but he couldn't expect too much. "You live alone here, right?"

"I used to have a roomate, but she moved out because she couldn't handle me getting up in the morning. I work a job in the morning, and she worked the night shift. As I woke up, she got to sleep, and she was a very light sleeper." She idly kept cooking, frying up a couple eggs for herself. "You want some eggs? I'd offer bacon, but I ate that after the last episode of Doctor Who I watched recently."

"You like that kind of stuff?" He inquired, curious about her now. "What kind of day job to you work, though?"

"I'm a teacher for an elementary school. I'm a kindergarten teacher, so I get to work with all the little kids." She smiled, glancing back at him. "You didn't answer me, though. Eggs, or no?"

"No thanks, waffles are just fine for me." Poking at the fresh fruit on top, he picked up one of the strawberries and smelled it. Not as fresh as he'd like, but still good.

"What about you? You live and work around here, right?" She wasn't doing so great at frying her eggs, as she felt like he was staring at her sleep pants. There was a hole in the butt, but that was probably besides the point.

"I live downtown in my own apartment. I work at a shipping company all day." That explained the rippling muscles he had...Emma had admired that aspect of him as soon as she opened her eyes. "Hard labor works out...it gets the job done."

Oh, it sure did... "You think you'd want to go out some other time for lunch or dinner? Maybe on the weekend because I've got work all week and such..." She proposed, turning around to look at the other. "It wouldn't be much, just maybe a pizzaria visit. There's a good one down town that some of my girl friends and I like. You'd enjoy it- The dough is so fresh, and they grate the cheese on the pizza right as it goes in."

"Mm...Maybe I should call you and recommend some of the restaurants that I enjoy."

"Don't tell me it's a burger joint."

"It's not a burger joint." He smiled a bit, propping his head up on his fists. "It's actually a very nice sit-down restaurant that serves lots of different food and wines. It's a town over from here, but it's worth the drive."

"...I can't drive."

"I'll have to pick you up, then. Next Saturday at seven?"

Wait, was this already happening? Emma beamed and leaned against the counter, tilting her head. "Um...sure. Fancy dress, or what?" She asked.

"Something mildly dressy. It's a four star place, so I'd recommend slacks and dress," He offered, picking up another bit of waffle. "I'm sure that if you look this good in the morning, you'll have me star stuck by Saturday."

"Ah ha ha ha—You're hilarious." She sighed, rolling her eyes at the Dutchman. "You're just so set on telling me nice things."

"Well, I don't see anyone else telling you nice things, so I thought I'd do that for you." Lars replied, smiling a bit less. "Plus, it's mostly truth."

"Mostly?"

"Just mostly." The breakfast was good throughout the whole morning. It ended up that Emma gave Lars the extra waffles she had made because he liked them so well. He left with all his clothes...except for the tie that had been strung up by the television. She took it gently between her fingers, looking at the silvery pattern on the black silk. This must have cost so much...to get such a smoky pattern on silk was difficult.

"Wow...I bet he'll come back for this...I can just give it to him before we go to dinner next weekend..." She sighed, curiously sniffing the fabric. It smelled...musky. Sweet, with a bit of a bite to it as well. It was like smelling mens cologne with roses and cinnamon. Nah, maybe she'd keep this. It'd be creepy though to keep a tie... "I could keep weirder things guys would leave...At least he didn't leave underwear." The thought lingered in her mind longer than it should have, but then again, who wouldn't want to think about attractive men without underwear on? Emma would absolutely think of that.


	2. Chapter 1: Anniversary

After that night and all the dates in the following weeks, Lars had been incredibly good to Emma. It wasn't a lie when she said that he bought her nice things, treated her kindly and with respect, and then continued to act like a real-life prince charming. Yes, Emma was in good hands—arms, rather—with Lars every day and night he was around her.

Every once in a while, he would come to her workplace and drop off things for her like sack lunches and things she forgot at her home since she had given him her apartment key after the first year of their relationship. The second year was filled with all sorts of love. They became the symbol of love for Emma's co workers, who absolutely loved Lars, even though he was a bit picky over such little things. They wouldn't give up the day that Lars followed Emma around with a bleach pen because she got coffee on her white dress. He'd tail her for the day and call her over, keeping the dress clean for her. Every time, he'd smile as Emma lectured that she really didn't need him to do that for her. Later, it just became something to aggravate her with. But...she wouldn't stay mad at him. Especially when he bought her a waffle iron. She had been trying to find a good one for a while, so when he brought home the stove-safe waffle iron, she jumped up and down and made waffles for dinner.

But, in the bit of happiness in Emma's apartment, there always came the question of 'Where are you really from?'. Lars would respond with the short answer of 'Amsterdam', and then she would give up for a bit. Lars didn't really talk much about himself. He said he liked living in the future, and he wouldn't dwell on the past for too long. He'd change the subject kindly, and then go back to some other conversation. It was a bit odd, but it was Lars.

The question came again on their anniversary, both of them tucked away in the wide bed they slept in. Emma had re-arranged everything so that the headboard was by the windows and everything else was either left or right on the room so there was a clear way to the door. The smaller Belgian woman was curled up against the buff Dutchman's chest, idly tracing circles on his clothed chest. In the warmth, she lazily asked the question he had been somewhat expecting. "...Why don't you like to talk about yourself so much? You just let me go on about myself all the time. I wanna hear about you."

"I'm just me. You know me." Lars simply said, glancing down at the other with a bit of a huff. "Plus, I honestly don't see why you like me so much."

"Well, for one thing you're the kindest anyone has really been to me in a relationship. There was some girl that I went out with for a while, but she was an absolute asshole and I ended up leaving after she suddenly moved to Spain."

"Oh? You should have brought you and the girlfriend for me to watch. I wouldn't mind having two pretty girls in my company..."

"Nee. Don't you even think about it. It's either one or none, mister." Emma huffed, poking his side a bit roughly. "Plus, she was more interested in other things than me. We didn't do much for too long. It was more like...living with a friend."

"Ah...then I guess I wouldn't want to run into her with you, hunh?"

Emma snorted, rolling her eyes as she propped herself up next to him. "Pretty much. You changed the subject again, though. I'm starting to learn your tricks, Lars. You can't always change your subjects like a wishy-washy college student."

"Oh, fine fine...since it's our little special day, I'll grant your wishes and give you information about me. What could you possibly want to know?"

"Did you have any siblings?" She followed right after his questions, honestly wanting to know if there were any more charming brothers or sisters lurking around.

"I had on brother, but he died young. It was a really terrible accident, and the whole thing's a bit touchy." He sighed, folding his hands over his stomach as he looked over her slightly worried expression. "Don't worry, though. I'm not upset. Next question, lieve."

"Alright...What are your parents like?"

"I don't know. I was a foster kid for a while. Stayed in Germany for a bit, went to Austria, then came back here when I was allowed to legally leave. I didn't like my foster parents."

The questions went on for a while until Lars was exhausted from answering, finally rolling over to hug Emma from the middle. It had been a good solid Q and A session, and the Dutchman was running out of answers to throw out.

"One last question," She smiled a bit, running her fingers through his soft hair. "What made you buy me that drink in the bar? There were plenty of girls who were prettier than me. Why me?"

Lars paused for a minute, trying to get the truth to surface to his mind. "...I don't know. It's just some little thing about you that drew me over, and then everything else about you made me fall in love with you. I fell in love with every little bit of you," The Dutchman said, listening to her heartbeat as he rested his head below her breast. "...Especially this-!" He turned his head and nuzzled into her stomach, making the other squeal and giggle, trying to make him stop.

"Lars! Stopthat!" She squirmed and laughed as it erupted into a tickle attack, trying to surrender so he'd stop. The moment hushed into a loose cuddle, Lars peppering Emma's face with kisses. "You think you're so cute, don't you?"

"I'm damn cute." He smiled widely pressing a kiss to her forehead. For Emma, Lars was different in more ways than one. Lars was much warmer than any other person she had met. He said that he was the normal temperature like everyone else, but Emma knew she was 'normal'. Lars was almost _hot. _ He always wore a bit of cologne, and it was a musky, sweet scent that lingered in his clothes and usually her bed. It was a good smell, though. It wouldn't really bother her or anyone else if someone else smelled it on her clothes. "Do you think that it's about time to get some breakfast? It's pretty late in the afternoon..."

"Maybe we should go out shopping and get some things for lunch or dinner. I could get some salad stuff, some steak..." She offered, stealing a quick moment's kiss. "We could get whatever we want, then cook it up for dinner."

The idea was good...they could stay inside instead of going out for dinner. Lars must have liked the ideas, as his lips slipped back into a smile. "I like that idea, but it'd mean that we'd have to get dressed...I don't know if I want to get dressed right now..."

"Well, I could just go out and buy chocolate and then we'll come home and eat that. I wouldn't mind that at all, you know." She had an idea that he didn't quite enjoy chocolate like she did, so that was actually a bit of a threat. The Dutchman frowned and adopted a bit of a pout in response, rolling away to his side of the bed. "Well, are you going to get dressed now?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Not very much, it seems." She poked his side and slid out of the bed, shaking her head. "Alright, then...I guess I'm going to have to go and get that chocolate...You're going to have to deal with whatever I get, Lars...~" Emma hummed, taking off her pajamas and she ended up pulling out a salmon pink dress and some black tights, grabbing a different short-sleeved sweater to pull over it. It wasn't too entirely warm in town, but it wasn't too cold to really go with a long sleeved shirt. So, a coat would cover everything that was probably going to get cold. Lars rolled out of bed as well, picking up his pants from his side of the bed, along with his shirt.

"When were you going to give this back to me?" He pulled out the smokey-patterned tie that he had lost a couple years ago, looking at her with an arched eyebrow. "I've been missing this at my house, Em."

"Well..." She trailed off, turning around to look at him as she slipped a headband into her hair. "I've been meaning to, but I kind of forgot about it..."

"It was on your nightstand."

Emma rolled her eyes, staring at the ceiling, letting her arms flop to her sides. "...Okay, I kept it because it smell like you and I thought I could lure you back with it, but you just kept coming back."

"You little thief-" Buttoning up his shirt, he had slung the tie over his shoulder, deciding he'd wear it today. He always looked so dapper, it was another one of the things that Emma enjoyed about Lars. "At least I got it back. You don't stash my underwear in your bedside table, do you? Maybe you've got locks of hair that you've snipped off?" He teased, watching as she rolled her eyes again, fixing up a bit of makeup in her dresser mirror.

"You probably got a sweater of mine that I left at your house, so we'll just call it even." Emma sighed, rolling her eyes a bit. "You're lucky I don't like that sweater too much. It's itchy and it probably smells of mothballs still."

"Actually, it probably smells like my house, so you'll probably want it to sniff whenever you please." He teased a bit further, resting his head on her shoulder. "I don't understand why you wear makeup. You look just fine without it."

"Well, I like it, so I wear it. I'm not wearing it because of you or anyone else, but I just enjoy having it on, so there." She retorted, picking up a red lipstick. "Now get back before you get a face full of cherry lipstick."

"Fine, fine..." Lars huffed, turning away. "I'll probably be wearing it tonight if you so choose to let me stay over again...I would actually enjoy having that color on the collar of my shirt and possibly other places..."

"You dirty pervert."

"You enjoy me best that way." Lars sighed, striding his way out to the living room to retrieve his shoes. "I'll have to stop by my house for a minute or two on our way out. I've got to pick up my mail and such..."

"Oh, fair enough." She sighed, pulling on a pair of leggings on before she slid on some shoes. "It's back around our route, so we'll be able to head back to your place anyways."

"I know, I know...I live there, so I ought to know." With his tie done right, he was basically perfect to Emma. But in all honesty, she was a bit excited to rip off that tie and all the other clothes. Just not too roughly due to the fact that Lars spent good money on those clothes.

The trip to the supermarket itself wasn't too terrible. Lars and Emma split up to get their items on the list, one grabbing steak, probably he pricy one since Lars was paying, and the other got salad starter and miscellaneous vegetables...and ice cream...and a nice small box of chocolates.

Going as planned, they got their items paid for, give or take a small chocolate bar and an iced coffee from the cooler paid by Emma. Taking a bit of a longer route, they did happen to go past Lars's house to take care of his business. The other partner's 'house' was more of a renovated small storage warehouse that had the other half of it rented out next door. Lars was working on refinishing the upstairs so that Emma and Lars could have nights at his house instead of having to go to her house all the time. It wasn't that he didn't like going over there, but it was actually a bit of a strain on his job, a having to travel across town like that a few days of the week.

"I really can't wait to see the upstairs...you've been sleeping on your own couch for a long time, haven't you?" Emma looked at the small yet warm looking living room, looking past the doorway to see the small kitchen. Behind that was a small place for trash pick up and a small place where Lars smoked every once in a while. He wasn't one that smoked a pack a day, but he did have his own pipe and his own tobacco blend that he enjoyed.

"Don't remind me...I don't even want to come back here sometimes because of that couch. As soon as this one breaks down, I'm getting a new one." Lars sighed, going through a couple letters before frowning at an impossibly regal letter between a couple bills and an ad for a nearby store. "Hello..." He mumbled to himself, tilting his head. His name was written in fancy hand-written font, each line was as straight as a ruler. No sender address, and the letter was barren of any stamps to possibly give its original location.

"Wha'd ya get in the mail?" Emma's sweet voice echoed from the other side of the room, as Lars's house seemed to do to voices since it was a bit barren on the walls. "Just bills?"

Lars looked up from his letter, pursing his lips in an attempt to form a perfect lie. "Just bills. I think someone charged my credit card without me knowing. I'll just call someone later to take care of it."

"Ooh...they're in for a good surprise. They messed with a tightwad, and I'm sure you'll get every bit of it back." Emma teased, striding back over to her lover with a wide smile. "Ready to go back and wait until dinner to get stuff started?"

Shuffling the mail back together, Lars wrinkled his nose and shoved the envelopes in his pocket, looking down at her with a look a five year old could muster. "Ew, I have to go back with you...? What did I do to deserve that?"

"Oh, can it. You're such a child." The two awkwardly left Lars's residence, both of them talking like a five year old and his mother.

"Do I really have to have salad? No offense to you, but I don't like greens. Just money greens. Those greens are good."

"Of course, you just got to eat a little bit of them. Just...possibly the snap peas. I'm serving those stir fried, and then some green beans. They're fresh, and I'll make sure to blanch them so they don't get soggy, just for you Lars."

"...I'm glad I bought the meat. Otherwise we would have been dining at a garden."

While preparing the meal, Lars did in fact get to escape to read the letter he had gotten in the mail, scanning over the page of embossed stationary with a deep set frown and serious expression.

_'Dearest Lars,_

_ It's getting about that time, isn't it? I'm writing to remind you that the lunar eclipse is coming, and I'm quite worried about you. You haven't checked in with Gilbert and I, and Daniel misses your company. I know how you two got along, but maybe if you visited more often, I assume your friendship would grow. _

_ Remember that the eclipse is the time for new pups to emerge, and it's not uncommon to actually lose yourself in the moon. For your sake, I pray that you find safety and keep yourself and humans safe in your wake. You used to be so wild during eclipses, so hopefully this year's prayers reach you._

_ Best wishes and affections to you—_

_ A.M. Edelstein_

_ P.S. You never really left home, Lars. You'll come home eventually. We should finish our game of chess at some time. Preferably soon._

* * *

The shaking in his hands was almost too much. He stared at the plush chair across from him, breath shaking as he became aware of his surroundings again. Perfect wallpaper, fancy tables and chairs, purple velvet. There was tea in the air. God, he was so thirsty. And hungry. The lights were so bright, and he was so _damn thirsty._ His hands gripped the chair he was in, and fingernails were cut short. There were grooves in the chair where he assumed someone else had clawed...or did he do that?

A dark haired woman came in with the wonderful smelling tea, some small cookies, and what smelled like a pack of cigarettes. Lars perked up, his shaking stopping for a minute. "Well, it looks like you're awake again." She said, violet eyes meeting with his almost amber orbs. They almost passed for hazel now, as he was getting a bit more mature. "How is your shoulder?"

"Hurts." He said bluntly, remembering that something had happened to his shoulder, and it really did hurt. He was younger in the face, looking more like eighteen in this time. "Can I-"

"_May I._" The woman corrected, moving a box of chess pieces from the table to another small table where other things were set. "Ask correctly, Lars. You're in a house of aristocrats, not hethans."

"M-May I have a cigarette?" He sputtered, trying to control the shaking of his voice.

"Yes you may, but tea first. Then you may have your cigarette. I won't let you ruin my appetite for tea with your disgusting smoke." The woman said shortly, taking the pack of cigarettes, resting them on her lap. Lars's eyes followed the carton, licking his dry lips as they disappeared. Maybe he could steal them from under the table? As she poured the tea, Lars made an attempt to grab the pack, thinking he was doing well because the woman's face didn't change a bit. His hand was quickly greeted by French manicured nails digging into skin. The pain was nothing, but it still startled him. "Tea first, I said. Behave or I won't let you have a cigarette."

"Y-Yes ma'am." Lars hissed, bringing his hand back, ignoring the numbing pain in his shoulder. "Miss Analiese, I don't understand why I'm here."

"You are here because we were kind enough to take you in. You are a part of this family now, and we will take care of you until you are able to start your own family. We will teach you how to act, and how to make your family."

"...You're a wolf...right?"

"Yes, Lars. And you're just a pup now. Drink your tea and eat your cake. We will play a game of chess to see how much you have learned since your last game." Analiese had served them both, not minding that Lars was still shaky in his chair. "You broke out yesterday and ran a good mile before Daniel caught you. If you had gone any farther, you would have gotten to town. What do you think about that?"

"Oops." The younger male snorted, managing a small eye roll as he sipped his tea with a shaky hand. "I send my almost regards to the town. I hardly remember it."

"You will not run off this time. I will make sure of that."

There was an air of strict behavior around the two as their afternoon of tea, chess and a piano lesson went along. Lars did get his cigarette after the tea, the rolled leaves and paper sitting between his lips as he enjoyed the smoke. Every afternoon was like this, until the day that Lars could defeat Analeise in a round of chess. It took many long years to win a game, as the beautiful woman was so intelligent, and Lars was so young, in both respects, his mind could not focus. Life in the house of the Germanic family was full of scolding and doting as if Lars were a baby brother. In a sense, he still was.

And now in the latter future, it seemed the family wanted their baby brother to visit.


End file.
